Sunday, November 3, 2013

Being single again has made me realize something really mind blowing about myself. I thought self-discovery was over after age 25, but apparently the fucked up journey continues. Thank god since I really needed something more to live for.

The other night, while sadly trolling okcupid and moving onto bottle two of the cheap wine I was judged about while purchasing at Fresh and Easy, I realized that I'm kind of an asshole. Ok, time to get real, I'm a huge fucking asshole. I laughed at people for describing how they were looking for the one and hoping to find someone to give them a reason to get up in the morning. I openly mocked the dude who might be a little cross-eyed for sending me a really sweet message and trying to compliment me. I literally looked at my dog and said "Look at this fucking guy! I mean, where is he looking? I can't bring a wonk-eye home to meet the family." Yeah, those words were put out into the universe by this bitch. Even my dog didn't think I was funny. And that little bastard adores me.

Also I routinely delete messages from people for the most shallow reasons. The guy who wore a beanie that was a little too close fitting. I mean come on dude, everyone knows slouchy beanies are sexy. Otherwise you look like a dick, literally. Also the guy that seemed a little too excited to be posing with his furry fluff ball of a dog. I mean I'm obsessed with my dog, everyone knows this. Yet I kind of hated this dude for liking his dog so much. It doesn't even make sense.

I won't even look at someone's profile or read their message if the tiniest little detail about their profile picture or something they wrote seems less than awesome. Maybe it's because I think my profile is so rad, chances are I'm not going to mesh well with someone who didn't put as much effort into theirs. It is awesome though. Seriously, I'm kind of like a dating profile genius.

It's not even just the online rejections. Sometimes when a dude tries to hit on me in a bar, the grocery store parking lot, in the Taco Bell drive-thru, I roll my eyes so violently that I'm pretty sure I've made eye contact with my brain. I might even have hissed and/or growled at someone. I'm one plastic bag and a shopping cart away from being that crazy bitch with the smeared red lipstick that used to hang out near the freeway and assault people. Oh dear god, I've already looked my future in it's crazy-eyed face.

I can't decide if I'm such a twat because I'm attempting self-preservation and I'm trying to avoid being penetrated by another douchebag, or if I really just hate everyone and don't think there's anyone out there worthy of seeing how much I spaz out when I take Ambien and try to fight it. I don't want to die alone with a cat eating my face, but I also know I don't want to wake up every morning feeling disappointed by the person sleeping next to me.

Maybe I need to think less. Maybe I need to say "yes" more and stop making animal noises at people. Or maybe I need to take my friend Eric's advice and, "Go home with a 4, and let him have the win for once."